Geek Love
by Grac3
Summary: Nerina Pallot songfic. In his darkest hour, when there is no one left, he goes back for him. Eleven/Simm!Master. Episode tag: Post-The Angels Take Manhattan.


**A.N.:** I admit this is kind of weird...

**Warnings: **Slight spoilers for The Name of the Doctor, slash, implied smut

**Disclaimer: Don't own Doctor Who**

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Everything is quiet and boring and depressing. There is nothing for him; not anymore. He craves the company, and the noise and the audience: he craves someone to pay attention to him, but there is no one left.

And then he remembers that there is someone left: one person in the madness, in the ether, in the places he's tread.

It is such a shame, such a pity, that he is dead.

But is he? For everyone is a ghost in the end, even him, in that sharp crackle of light that is all he will leave in this place that he loves, that he has spent so long protecting from the front line. He's spent so long with that line behind him, he's almost forgotten that not everyone falls at it.

Because if everyone is a ghost, then everyone is alive - for it is such a big, complicated, sad word. Everyone is alive somewhere, somewhen; even him, and he could save him, so he does - not because he thinks it's right, not because he has to live to fix some wrong, but because he is a geek, and he is as well, and they know that he is selfish, and vain, and oh, so lonely.

He goes back to that house, and he saves him while he isn't looking, because he can't see through the light, as white as he aspires for them both.

He's angry at first, then confused, then smirking, because he doesn't want to die, not while he lives on, so he takes this second chance - or is the eighth, or the ninth? - and he goes with him, and he isn't alone, and not everything is quiet, and not everything is boring, and not everything is depressing.

Just most things are.

They go around the world, because he can't trust him, and he questions why he saved him, and they both know that it was purely selfish.

So they end up in a bar and everyone is drinking and drunk, but they're not, and he wants to know why - he demands to know why - but they both know the answer, and it's because he can't trust him, but he can't trust himself either, and he can't remember the last time that he could, so he stays sober as well though he longs just for once to fade away in a haze and have someone drag him back home when he can't manage it himself, because he has someone now who could, or he would, if he could trust him, but he can't.

Somewhere in the background that neither of them were paying attention to, because they are geeks and they know that they only ever see each other and everything that's between them, a fight is breaking out and it's dangerous and loud, and he finds that he wants to stay, even though he wants to go.

But he has the keys, and he's not going anywhere without him, because he doesn't trust him, so he stays, but he tugs at his sleeve and he begs him to go, and he wants to know why he won't listen, why he never listens but demands attention from everyone around him. He knows that he does that, but he doesn't want to be presumed, so he finds a spoon made of pure reflection and fixes his unfixable hair the way he uses to for her, but it isn't for him, even though his vanity would tell him that it was.

So they argue, and accuse, and he criticises the way that he talks, because he lies and he speaks in riddles, but it isn't a game, and he isn't testing him; he's already failed the test that the universe has put to him again and again and he will never pass, and they both know that, and they argue, but they get over it, and he gives him control, if only for once.

It turns out that he had a car, when he didn't exist as himself, and he can drive, but the vehicle leaves a little to be desired, but he won't tell him anything and he refuses to get down on his hands and knees and make a fuss and wail for the information - because he's never been like that and he won't be like that now. So he forgives all the things that he doesn't know - that he has to accept that he will never know; not now - and learns to find a sudden and strange kind of joy in the ignorance.

That is, until he remembers, and then he can't keep his mouth shut anymore. He has to know, as the engine hums beneath them both and the canyon carved out of concrete and glass slips them by; and so, with a swimming heart and a swimming head, he asks, even though he isn't sure he wants to know, but he has to know, and he isn't sure why, but he asks anyway and he doesn't know if he wants to know the answer.

He asks about that poor, corrupted girl, noticing the tan on his left hand, on his third finger (and feels a little guilty that he's always had that, because he never stopped it from happening, but that leads to dark and depressing thoughts and he has to focus on him to make them go away), and wonders what happened to her - if anything happened to her at all.

He tells him without hesitation, and with no hint of remorse, and he wonders if he made a mistake saving him from that awful day, because he was sure, he was so sure, and now he knows that he was wrong, and he hates being wrong.

He isn't sure he knows the man behind the wheel anymore, not that he ever really knew him anyway, not even way back when, not even in those times when he was sure that there was no way that any kind of evil could have seeped into his mind yet, and that makes him just that little bit scared, but it doesn't matter because fear is exhilarating and it's a lot better than what he had before, so he doesn't say anything about it, because they are geeks and they know that they are all they have left.

They keep going to places, one after the other, all over the galaxy - all over the universe - because the world is boring and gets old and he keeps fearing he'll bump into himself, or him, and neither of them really want that, and each time he changes, because he's fickle now and the only thing he can really decide on to keep as a constant is him.

He makes fun of the changes, the constant and predictable changes, and fills the rooms with silk and cotton, with suits and jeans, and he likes that, though he would never admit it - not out loud, not that he needs to anyway, because he knows, and he knows that he knows.

And because he knows, and because he knows that he knows, he will take the piss and they will argue, because they argue a lot - even though it's not every day - and he will say things to irk him, because he loves to wind him up, but not as much as he loves him, because he asks; he always asks.

It is grey that day, the colour - not the 'color' like he says, because he knows that it annoys him - and they are surrounded by books, and there is the flame keeping them warm even as they shed.

It's not perfect, and it never will be, and they both know that it can't last - because it can never last, because it never has lasted - but it has to be enough, because at the moment it's all either of them have, so they make it enough and they live in the moment, just like they always have, whenever that moment happened to be.

Because they are geeks, and they know this is love.


End file.
